


ruinous

by Tater_Tati



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crushes, F/M, Flirting, Love Confessions, Sylvain being a womanizer, relationship ambiguity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 17:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21461671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tater_Tati/pseuds/Tater_Tati
Summary: Sylvain can’t just let good things happen, can he?
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Reader, Sylvain Jose Gautier/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 99





	ruinous

**Author's Note:**

> i do not give anyone permission to repost my work in any format. please respect that.

You can’t believe your eyes.

Not even two days ago did Sylvain meet you at the Goddess Tower and confess his feelings for you. You were flattered, and more importantly, you felt _exactly the same_ for the red-headed flirt. Despite his awful pick-up lines, philandering ways, and womanizer reputation, you saw past that. Sure, it helped that you had grown up around him, and knew the ups and downs of noble life just like you knew Sylvain.

But you convinced yourself not to say anything, not to ruin the friendship between you two. He had his own problems to sort out, and you were trying to make something of yourself at the Academy. Something that did _not _involve being another one of his starstruck conquests.

Then the night of the ball came, and, urged by Annette and the thrill of curiosity, you found yourself waiting at the tower to meet your “true love.” You weren’t expecting to see anyone there. You were hardly expecting to see _Sylvain_, of all people.

The surprise at seeing each other was mutual, but it faded into something familiar, something _easy, _as the two of you joked around and bantered. You’d slowly made your way towards one another, and ended up sitting awfully close, knees touching, the vestiges of laughter fading.

“Do you even believe the rumors about this place?” he asked.

“Nah. I just–I guess I was _curious_,” you admitted, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Huh.” Sylvain went quiet, his face etched with contemplation. Just as you were about to joke about not popping an aneurysm_, _he said, “I mean, same. Who wouldn’t give up the chance to meet the love of their life?”

It’s as if a piece falls into place, clicks. There’s a pause where you catch his gaze, and find something _vulnerable _there, something _familiar. _The flicker of hope, mirrored in your expression. Then his lips were on yours, soft and hesitant, so unlike his usual self. Your eyes fluttered shut, your lips molding against his, as his hand came up to cup your cheek. It was all the confession you needed.

But now look where you are. Feeling absolutely _humiliated _as you watch Sylvain flirt with another unknowing townsgirl. You’re not even aware of your legs marching you over there, your body acting of it’s own accord.

“Having fun?_” _you ask once you’re directly in front of him. His eyes widen. He mouths the syllables of your name, and distantly, you can hear the girl asking what this is all about, but all you say, through wet heat clpuding your vision, voice thick with disappointment, is,

“Guess you ruined your chance, huh, Sylvain.”

You don’t look back to see if he’s following you. Part of you–the part that clings to your childhood infatuation, that keeps making excuses for him–wants him to, but the other part wants nothing to do with him. How could you be so naïve as to believe in him? He told you the same thing he told every girl, what he _thought_ every girl wanted to hear. You were gullible enough to believe in his words, to believe that you were someone _special, _someone _different_–

It’s as if every ounce of you is drained, magnified by the dull ache in your chest. You decide to rest on a bench near the courtyard. Propping your legs up and crossing them at the ankles, you bury your face in your palms, finding solace in the the rhythmic beat of your breaths. At the moment, you don’t give a damn about propriety or whether or not you were flashing someone unknowingly through your skirt. A part of you laughed at the thought; Ingrid would definitely chastise you, but then offer to smack the source of your sadness.

At some point, you sense someone sit down next to you. You don’t need to look to know who it is.

“This is like the first time we met,” Sylvain says. “Remember that? Those guys from a lower house were bullying you, and I stepped in.”

“Wonder who’s making me feel awful now,” you mutter, hands falling to your lap as you shoot him a glare. You note, with satisfaction, his flinch.

“Look, I know I messed up–”

“Do you feel bad about it?” you interrupt.

“What? Of course I do–”

“You always _mess up_, right? That’s what all the girls say. That you come to them with apologies and lies, and they take you back, only for you to do the same thing over and _over _again.” He’s stunned into silence, looking as if you aimed straight where it _hurts. _It gives you motivation to continue, your indignation rising with your tone.

“Well, guess _what_, Sylvain. I’m not stupid enough to believe you this time. So you can just march your sorry ass right out of he–”

“I was _afraid,” _he bursts out, with no small deal of frustration. He grimaces, running a hand through his hair briskly. “Look, you–you’re great, and you’re kind, and sweet and _so, _so _beautiful, _(Y/N), and I’m–I’m a _fuckup,” _he says bitterly. “I fuck _everything_ up. I was _scared–”_

“So you dealt with it by going behind my back after–after making me think you_ liked _me–” You choke up, feeling tears burning in your eyes again. You blink rapidly. “After saying all that stuff about finding _love–”_

“I am! I’m always looking for it, and I never find it! Until–until _you. _You’ve always been there, but I’ve always been too–too _stupid, _and in _denial_ to admit that–”

“Admit what?” you ask. In the sudden pause, you’re certain that he can hear your heart racing.

“…_That I li—“ _He frowns, swallowing roughly. When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse_. “_That I… that I _love_ you, (Y/N). God, I do.” He has that same vulnerable look, his brows brows furrowed. His whole expression radiating honesty.

“Well, y-you sure have a funny way of showing it,” you finally manage, turning away so he can’t see the heat creeping up your cheeks. Despite yourself, you find your anger wavering from his confession. 

You stand abruptly, and his hand latches onto your wrist, preventing you from leaving. You tug on it.

“Let go.”

“Just–” His mouth is set in a thin line. This is clearly not going the way he hoped it would, but then again, when did things ever? “Just listen to what I have to say. _Please. _You’re the only one that does.” At your insistent tugging, he sighs.

“I promise, if you don’t like what you hear… if you decide that you don’t want anything to do with _me, _I-I’ll understand.”

It’s that admission, tinged with the possibility of defeat and _fear_, that has you turning back to him, raising a brow. “I’m listening.”

“I–” Sylvain runs a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he tries to find his grounding. It’s the first time he’s ever been this nervous around you. “When we were seven, and my crest appeared–remember that?”

You nod, remembering very clearly the day that his parents had rejoiced, threw him a lavish celebration. It was also the day when Miklan’s furtive glances towards the two of you turned to outright resentment. It took you awhile to realize it wasn’t directed at you, however; he _envied_ his younger brother. 

“And do you remember what you told me?”

“What?”

“You said…” He smiles fondly. “You said that even if I _could_wield a stupid lance now, I was still a gross boy with _cooties,_and you _still _wouldn’t share your cookies with me. Remember?”

Your cheeks warm at the memory. “S-So?”

“I–” Sylvain purses his lips. “There’s so many people that want to get close to me because of my crest. Because of something I didn’t even _want _to be born with. But you–you’ve never treated me differently. All this time. Even though youdon’t have a crest, you’ve never… you’ve never hated me for it.”

“Because… that would be stupid.” You frown. “It’s not like you asked for one. It’s not like you asked for society to place so much importance on them.”

“Exactly,” he says, closing his eyes. “You just _get it, _and you get me, and…and–I like you, (Y/N). A lot. I like you so much that it _scares me–”_

“You… You’re still an idiot,” you say. Despite yourself, a smile tugs at your lips. Sylvain was bad at emotions, and struggled to accept what he so desperately he wanted, even when it was presented to him on a silver platter, but–

He was _your _idiot.

“I know. And I know I messed up really bad. But I guess what I’m saying is…” He draws you closer and you allow him, till you’re chest-to-chest. This close, you can feel the rapid pace of his heart, can _see _the nervousness in him. “Can you give me a second chance?”

You pretend to think it over, even if you already know the answer. “Maybe.”

“_Maybe? _What do I have to do for it to be a yes?”

“I dunno….” You smile wryly, your gaze darting to his lips. Sylvain gets the hint, leaning down… Only for you to smack your forehead into his chin–_hard. _He groans, clutching his face.

“_Ow. _Okay, I guess I deserve that.”

You peck the corner of his lips.

“You’ve always been my dummy. And you always will be,” you say, intertwining your fingers together.

…

[extra]

As the two of you walk hand-in-hand back to your dorm, you realize that you forgot to mention something.

“Hey, Sylvain?”

“Yeah, babe?” He’s already into the affectionate nicknames. And he looks stupidly happyto use them. You suppress a laugh.

“Just to be clear… next time I catch you hitting on another girl, you won’t be able to _have _any crest-bearing offspring, got it?”

You’re certainly _not_ imagining the way the blood drains from his face. He gulps. “G-Got it.”


End file.
